It felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, knocked all the wind out of his lungs. His smile — his perfect office smile — fell from his lips and landed somewhere unreachable as Uchida Hikaru — the Uchida Hikaru — walked in, expression mild and closed.
This was not that Takeshi had expected when he walked into the President's office. This was not even in the ballpark of close to what Takeshi had been expecting.
He looked different with his stylish hair cut and magazine-advertised clothes. Even his mannerisms had changed. It was as if the kid from ten years ago had vanished sometime between high school and now — sold off and exchanged for this cardboard-cut-out fake, who's very cologne reeked of expensive. He nodded in acknowledgement, but thick lashes kept any meanings he intended at bay, locking Takeshi out.
"Ah, so you were childhood friends?" The president asked, desperation practically leaping from his eyes as Hikaru took the empty seat, face still set in hard indifference.
"We lived next to each other," Hikaru answered, voice as even as his appearance. He shot a cursory glance at Takeshi. "It wasn't much."
"Well, now that you are signing with us..."
The president continued to speak enthusiastically, but Takeshi couldn't hear anything beyond the blood pounding in his ears and the racing of his heart. This had to be a joke. Why would Uchida Hikaru — the man of the hour — sign with this small publishing company? He could have made contracts with any other group and gotten paid at least tripple whatever R Studio could have offered. What—
"Takeshi-kun?"
"Yes," he answered — automatic — mind snapping back into its shelf in reality. Fishing for another smile, Takeshi added, "Of course." In this line of business, Takeshi had learned only a handful of useful techniques: Always smile, always speak with sunshines and rainbows, and always — always — say "Yes."
"Good to hear!" The man laughed as he clapped his chubby little hands together, beady black eyes dancing with mirth. "I hope you will take good care of Uchida-sensei then."
What? He shot the brunette a confused glance, mind busy running through the conversation he had only half-listened to. Exactly what had he agreed to do? What was going to happen?
"I hope you continue to take care of me," the brunette bowed low in his seat and all Takeshi could think of was: No, No, No. But the words coming out of his mouth sounded distinctly like:
"It'll be my pleasure."